


the harsh light of streetlamps.

by elleigator



Series: when the panic sets in. [2]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleigator/pseuds/elleigator
Summary: Chloe might be a teenager, but even big girls get nightmares. Can Ange help Chloe pull through?





	the harsh light of streetlamps.

Chloe bolted upright in her bed, trembling and quickly on her way to hyperventilating. The harsh light of the street lamps outside seeped through her blinds, fracturing shards of too-yellow brightness over the posters on her bedroom walls. Chloe pressed her hand to her chest, trying to control her breathing. In and out and in and out, but her head was just too fuzzy to think about that. All she could process was that she needed her mother.

“Mum?”, She shouted into the darkness of her bedroom, the sound eerily quiet in the large house. Chloe’s voice shook and she let out a sob, feeling the panic radiate from the tightness in her chest to her shaking fingertips. Finally, Chloe heard the opening and shutting of her mum’s bedroom door, and light flooded under her door as her mum flicked the hall switch. The light grew brighter as her door opened, Chloe squinting. 

“Chloe? Are you okay?” Her Mum’s voice was worried but gentle, and she crouched down by the side of Chloe’s bed. Taking her daughter’s smaller hands in her own, she stroked them comfortingly, already predicting what was going to happen. Tears were starting to leak down Chloe’s soft pink cheeks, and Ange reached up to wipe them away.

“No, no, no. Can you- I can’t-” she said, choking on her words before they had even left her mouth. Somehow, not being able to speak only made the panic worse, and her throat was constricting so much she just couldn’t squeeze the words out.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths. Mummy’s here, Chloe. It’s going to be okay.” Ange said soothingly. She reached up to tilt Chloe’s chin until they were making eye contact, one pair of big blue eyes parallel to an identical set. Ange took a big breath in, letting her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, watching Chloe try to mimic her. She shuddered with every breath, shoulders quivering, tears streaming fast onto the duvet.

The world seemed muffled, not real. Chloe could see her mother kneeling in front of her, her long nightshirt rolled up at the sleeves, hair pulled back. The image was comforting, but she couldn’t make out the words her mother was saying. They were blurry, like her ears were plugged. However, the accent was familiar, and calming. Chloe pulled the blankets tighter around herself, not entirely sure where she was anymore. 

“Chloe?” Her mother’s became much clearer, much harsher all of a sudden, and her breathing picked up again. She couldn’t decide if she was going to throw up or explode, and no matter how many intakes of air she took, it never seemed enough. Her head had snapped up when her name was called, and her mother had let go of her hand.

Chloe felt the bed dip and flinched, pushing herself backwards towards the headboard. She held her hands to her chest again, closing her eyes and just letting her head take control. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the best idea, as her head wasn’t exactly working at it’s best, but this is what she normally did. Ride the wave. She felt her mother’s heat next to her, the soft squeak of bed springs making her jump.

“Hey, it’s just me. You called me, remember? It’s Mum. Can I touch you?” Her Mum’s voice was gentle and low, not too hard to focus on. Chloe thought about it for a minute before slowly nodding, letting her chest shake and not holding it back. The white noise still buzzed in Chloe’s ears, and her breath was hitching every time she tried to spit a word out. 

Ange carefully pulled the cover back and sat Chloe up, one hand on the small of her back and another on her arm. Recently, panic attacks had become a regular occurrence in the Godard household, reminding Ange of her own teenage years. Maybe they were just cursed. She pulled the teenage girl against her and took a deep breath to steady her voice before speaking.

“Hey, Chloe, you’re okay. You’re having another panic attack. You’re in your room, you’re safe.” she murmured into the girl’s hair. “I need you to try and breathe with me, okay? In and out.”

“I- I can’t- I need-” Chloe said breathlessly. She was starting to shiver again, her whole body shaking and her head was starting to throb. She gasped in a breath, coughing and firmly latching onto her mother’s pyjama shirt.

“Chloe,” Ange said firmly, cutting her off. “I’ve got you. Breathe.” There was a steadiness in her voice that Chloe appreciated in times like this- her mother was reliable. She was in control, and even when she wasn’t, she acted like it.

Ange tightened her grip on her daughter, holding the girl as tightly to her body as she could, hoping that the technique would help her. Chloe nestled into her mother, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning them against Ange. 

“That’s better, there you go,” Ange soothed, moving a hand to firmly hold the back of Chloe’s neck and head. “You’re safe.” Chloe let her body collapse against her mother’s, allowing her mum to hold her like a child.

“M-Mum?” She choked the word out eventually, her throat aching from all the gasping.

“Mum’s here, baby. You’re going to be fine.” Ange seemed so calm, and in turn this calmed Chloe. Glancing over at her alarm clock, she realised it was gone midnight, and her mother was working a full shift the next day.

“I’m sorry I woke you up, wasn’t thinking.” Chloe looked up at her mother, who made eye contact with her quickly. 

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to be sorry for that. I’m glad you called me.” Ange’s voice was firm and no-nonsense, and somehow she always knew exactly what to say.

“Really?” Chloe asked in a small voice. She sounded timid and nervous, her moods always changing so quickly after one of her attacks. One minute she was angry at Ange, lashing out and occasionally hitting her mother. There was nothing that broke her heart more than seeing the hurt in her mother’s eyes when she got angry. And the next minute, she would be sobbing against her, her mother stroking her hair and whispering in her ear. 

“Really. I’m your mum, that’s my job. I want you to call me when you need me. Don’t ever feel bad about that,” she managed to say in a calm, but firm, voice.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, her breath hitching.

“Always, egghead.” Ange reassured. Chloe let her eyes drift shut, leaning against her mum. There was something so comforting about being in her mother’s arms, just feeling her heart beat, and trying to match her breathing. No-one could calm her down as well as her mother could.

“Chloe, you’re going to be sore in the morning if you fall asleep like this. Do you want to lay down?” Ange’s voice was soft, and Chloe looked up. Little pieces of hair were beginning to fall out of her mother’s bun, resting on her shoulders. Chloe let out a quiet whine, her grip on Ange’s shirt tightening.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can stay, I won’t leave until you kick me out,” Ange soothed, tightening her grip once again. She rubbed her daughter’s arms, comforting her. 

A few moments later, Chloe nodded decisively and Ange kicked off her slippers, pushing her legs under the covers and shuffling down the headboard until she and Chloe were both lying down.

“There we go, I’ve got you,” she whispered into Chloe’s hair, and the younger girl tucked her head into the crook of her mum’s neck, getting as close as possible.

“Thank you,” Chloe mumbled, almost inaudibly.

“Sleep tight, babygirl.”


End file.
